


Heaven Is Betting on Us

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dreams, F/F, Getting Together, Moon Mercy & Astronaut Pharah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: The first time Fareeha sees her, she could mistake it for a normal dream. Her glimpse of the woman is fleeting, it kaleidoscopes away almost instantly into something more mundane. But when Fareeha wakes up, she remembers it vividly. A woman with purple, flowing hair, standing in utter darkness, her gray eyes meeting Fareeha’s in shock. She thinks about her the rest of the day, as she sits through lengthy briefings on the mission status.





	Heaven Is Betting on Us

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this amazing piece](https://twitter.com/angelasrocket/status/1131391686242816002) by [@angelasrocket](https://twitter.com/angelasrocket)!

The first time Fareeha sees her, she could mistake it for a normal dream. Her glimpse of the woman is fleeting, it kaleidoscopes away almost instantly into something more mundane. But when Fareeha wakes up, she remembers it vividly. A woman with purple, flowing hair, standing in utter darkness, her gray eyes meeting Fareeha’s in shock. She thinks about her the rest of the day, as she sits through lengthy briefings on the mission status.

 

That night, there is no mistaking it for a typical dream. The instant Fareeha falls asleep, she sees the woman again. The woman has her hand out, as though Fareeha’s a skittish doe.

 

“You can see me,” the woman says. Fareeha nods, and the woman’s face crumples in relief. “You can see me,” she repeats. “Do you know how long it’s been since someone could see me?” 

 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Fareeha says.

 

“I don’t either,” the woman says, and she sounds absolutely thrilled about that. “I’m Angela.”

 

Fareeha stares at Angela, this strange woman with lavender hair in violet armor, surrounded by absolute black and unnatural silence. Angela’s smile falters at that, and without thinking, Fareeha offers, “I’m Fareeha,” as a reassurance.

 

“I’m so happy to meet you,” Angela says. Then the darkness swallows her up and Fareeha wakes up. She lies in bed motionless and tries to convince herself it was only a dream.

 

It becomes harder to do so that day at work. The astronauts from the previous mission meet with them again. Captain Winston shows them pictures from their lunar trek. When he flips to a slide of Dr. Zhou standing in the distance, knelt down collecting soil samples, it hits Fareeha. The black all around Dr. Zhou’s form, the stillness that’s evident even in a static image.

 

When she dreams that night and she sees Angela again, the first thing she does is look down. She has to look a ways down, the two of them seem to be floating. But sure enough, down below is gray, craterous ground, and Fareeha can see its curvature. She can also see pinpricks of light just visible in the black.

 

“I’m dreaming about the moon because I’m wrapped up in the mission,” Fareeha says slowly. She looks up at Angela, and Angela’s brow is furrowed. “This is so vivid because I’m so stressed. You’re like… a sign that everything’s going to go okay, or something.”

 

Angela still looks confused, but she laughs. “I’m glad you see me as a good omen, at least?” 

 

“Are you?”

 

She considers that for a moment. Then she says, “My name is Angela. And I appear before travelers who need my help.” 

 

And then she reaches out and touches Fareeha’s arm. Just a light, grazing thing, but it’s like nothing Fareeha’s ever experienced. It’s not a new feeling, radiating from the point of contact. It’s new feeling of feeling. Her arm feels light, like her bones have been hollowed out and filled with air. Fareeha can feel it fading as soon as Angela takes her hand away, and she’s not sure if she misses it or not. But the sensation was so singular and potent that she is now utterly certain that this is not just a dream. 

 

“What kind of help are you offering?” Fareeha asks. Her voice is hoarse. 

 

“Help with averting disaster,” Angela says. “Or meeting the demands of fate.”

 

“Averting disaster,” Fareeha repeats. Even in the dream, she feels numb. “The launch.” Angela frowns at her, confused. “Don’t you know why you’re here?”

 

“No,” Angela mutters. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Fareeha sits down, a disorienting experience when she’s floating in outer space. Angela hesitates, then follows suit. Her purple ribbons and drapery flutter down with her. 

 

“I’m leading a lunar expedition,” Fareeha says. She brushes her hair from her face and rubs her cheek. “Billions have been poured into it. And if something goes wrong, my team will die, for sure. But if there’s an explosion or something during launch, all those people on base…”

 

Angela clears her throat. “I’m quite sure you know more about mechanics than I do. So I’m fairly certain that’s not it.”

 

“But you know the moon,” Fareeha says. Angela raises an eyebrow. “You can walk me around it, show me where to land, show me what to look for!”

 

Angela is silent for a moment. Then she asks, “Is that how you think I should help you?”

 

“Can you help me determine if any of the components on my rocket are improperly attached?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I’m pretty sure this is how you’re supposed to help me.”

 

Angela laughs softly and holds out her hand. Fareeha takes it without thinking, but she doesn’t experience the same change in sensation as she did the last time Angela touched her. The two of them simply begin to float down to the surface of the moon. 

 

“Come,” Angela says, as they touch the rough rock. “I can’t show you much tonight. But we can start.”

 

-

 

The next night, Fareeha lands with her feet on the ground. Angela is waiting for her on the surface of the moon, right where they left off. 

 

“You know,” Angela says, as they walk together through a crater. “Most humans had me doing more interesting things than just strolling about. Are you certain there aren’t any sea monsters you’d like me to fight?”

 

“Positive,” Fareeha says. The crater’s walls are getting steep now, and she gets down on all fours to climb. Angela spreads her wings and flies lazily beside her as Fareeha watches, a little dumbstruck. 

 

“What are you?” Fareeha asks. 

 

“The last person I helped called me a moon goddess.”

 

“That’s not going to work,” Fareeha says. “I’m Muslim. That’s shirk.” She may not be particularly devout, but she knows she can’t really bend on that. For a second, it occurs to Fareeha that she should be concerned about offending a being powerful enough to pretend to godhood. But before she can react, Angela winces and nods in understanding. 

 

“Moon spirit, then?”

 

Fareeha remembers books of folk tales about djinn her grandmother gave her and says, “That works.” She continues her upward scramble. Vaguely, she thinks about how she shouldn’t be dealing with Earth-like gravity here, but she’s not really going to quibble with dream logic. Angela floats up beside her and Fareeha thinks about her some more, thinks about how they met. 

 

“You were surprised to see me,” Fareeha says finally. “Why?”

 

“I’m supposed to help humans,” Angela says. “But I haven’t helped anyone in a while.” They crest the lip of the crater and she helps Fareeha up over the top. “Not since you all stopped navigating by the moon, really. You don’t have much use for me anymore.”

 

She says it with a smile but Fareeha’s looking her in the eye, she can’t miss the sadness there. Even if she weren’t, Fareeha thinks it would still twist in her gut. She may not know exactly what Angela is but Angela does incredible things, and Fareeha still feels the ghost of her touch on her arm. For Angela to feel useless, to feel like she no longer belongs in Fareeha’s world, and to exile herself to this smaller, lonelier one–

 

“I’m navigating to you,” Fareeha says. “And so I have plenty of use for you. You’re helping me, right?”

 

Angela looks down at the pockmarked ground. Her smile seems real, now. “Yes,” she says. “I suppose I am.”

 

-

 

“Tell me more about your team,” Angela says. 

 

Fareeha hums and thinks. She can’t entirely recall what she’s told Angela already. They’ve talked a lot these past weeks, as they spend the night walking to and fro across the moon, searching for any sign of danger. Angela’s told her stories about the people she’s helped in the past, all the far flung corners of the earth she’s explored with them. And Fareeha’s told her about her efforts to break from the earth. Even if Angela can’t help her with the mechanics of her ship, she seems fascinated by them, and always has questions. 

 

“There’s Dr. Zhou,” Fareeha says. “She’s going to be on ground control this time. You’d like her a lot, I think. She’s the sweetest and smartest person you’ll ever meet.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Angela says, with a little grin. Fareeha elbows her. 

 

“I’m serious! She is. And she’d be able to answer all your questions about earth a lot better than I could. She’s a climatologist, she has a literally global perspective.”

 

“Maybe,” Angela says. “But I’ve learned a lot from you. And you seem plenty sweet, too.”

 

Fareeha looks down, embarrassed. And when she does, she notices something. She’s wearing her jumpsuit, the crinkly gray thing she wears under her spacesuit. 

 

“Was I always wearing this?” she asks, plucking the material. Dream logic is still in play, but she vaguely recalls brushing the hair from her eyes before, and her jumpsuit’s hood keeps her hair firmly compressed. 

 

“Not always,” Angela says. “You wore something bulkier for a while, with a–” She mimes a helmet, and Fareeha nods. “You started wearing this a few weeks ago. But the first night, the first night we really talked, anyway, you were wearing– less.”

 

“Less?” Fareeha repeats. 

 

“Not, not that less!” Angela says quickly, and she doesn’t seem soothed when Fareeha smiles. “It was– shorts, and a sleeveless top.”

 

“Oh,” Fareeha says. “My pajamas.”

 

“Sure,” Angela says, and she laughs a little when Fareeha does. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how this works either, I–”

 

“It’s fine,” Fareeha says. She holds out her hand and Angela takes it. For a second, Fareeha feels the shadow of the sensation she felt when Angela first touched her, but then it’s gone.

 

“I just hate this thing so much,” Fareeha says. “I can’t believe I have to wear it when I’m dreaming, too.” Angela laughs, nods, and they keep walking. 

 

The next night, when Fareeha wakes up in her dream, she looks down at her clothes immediately. She’s in her pajamas again, a camisole and boxers. Angela’s eyes flick down quickly, and then away. Fareeha smiles. 

 

“Let’s keep looking,” Angela says, and begins to walk. Fareeha likes Angela, so she doesn’t tell her to look all she wants. They walk for a few minutes, in relative silence, when Angela stops suddenly. 

 

“This is where we started searching,” she says. 

 

Fareeha looks down. She can’t say she recognizes this particular arrangement of dirt and rock, but she trusts Angela. “Okay,” Fareeha says. She tries to think things through logically, rationalize down her rising panic. “Do we take another path? Keep looking? The launch is tomorrow, I don’t know if we have time.”

 

“What are you looking for, Fareeha?”

 

“A safe place to land the craft, some noteworthy sample–”

 

“This is as good a place to land as any,” Angela says. She sits down, falling slowly, almost floating. “And there isn’t anything special here.”

 

Fareeha frowns and kneels down as well. “But you said you were here to help me avert disaster,” Fareeha says. “And that you didn’t know anything about my craft.” Angela nods and looks down. She starts tracing like spiral patterns in the dirt. “So if you can’t help me with that, than what are you helping me with?”

 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to help you,” Angela says quietly. Her hand stills in the center of the spiral she’s drawn. Fareeha frowns. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I’ve been alone for so long, Fareeha. I’ve watched humanity outgrow me, from this distance. And I could entertain myself by watching, but the purposelessness, the loneliness–” Angela looks up, and Fareeha is shocked to see that her gray eyes are shining. “And then you came to me, Fareeha. You were so wonderful, so clever and beautiful and brave. And tomorrow, you’re going to be here for real.” Angela wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Fareeha, in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to know. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

 

Fareeha stares at her, this strange, mystical being she’s spent a month walking with, talking with, learning from, flirting with. She feels like it would take her a lifetime to understand what exactly Angela truly is but now, Angela seems so human. All the more so when Angela moves towards her, and puts a hand on her cheek. 

 

Angela stays like that, and then looks apprehensively into Fareeha’s eyes. So Fareeha is the one who closes the distance between them and kisses her. Angela’s the one that deepens the kiss though, and slides her arm around her waist. She’s the one who pushes Fareeha so she’s lying down, and who makes a disgruntled little noise when Fareeha falls with earthly gravity, while Angela floats slowly behind her. 

 

“I can’t wait for you to actually be up here,” Angela says, when her mouth is just off of Fareeha’s. 

 

“Don’t jinx my launch,” Fareeha says. It’s a feeble joke, but Angela sets a possessive hand on her chest and her silver eyes turn steely. 

 

“Your launch will go well,” Angela says. “And you will be well. Because knowing you, seeing you, feeling you?” Her other hand grazes inward on Fareeha’s hips, and Fareeha barely stifles a gasp, doesn’t even try to bite back her smile. “That’s how you’re supposed to help me.”

 

-

 

The launch goes well. 

 

Oxton tells her later that looking over and seeing how calm Fareeha was calmed her down. She tells Fareeha she’s a great leader. Fareeha isn’t sure if she can accept. She thinks she’s a pretty good leader, sure. But she knows she was only able to stay calm because she knew what was supposed to happen. 

 

Fareeha is the first one out of the shuttle, and she walks out alone. She’s been in zero-g simulators. She’s experienced weightlessness in the shuttle in her trip up here. But nothing could ever really prepare her for the sensation of stepping into outer space, for the first time. There’s the weightlessness, yes. But there’s also the difference in how her body moves against itself, in how her cells go about their work. There’s the sensation of moving through a kind of atmosphere that’s completely foreign to her. 

 

Not completely foreign, she realizes with a jolt. She’s felt this before.

 

This is Angela’s touch. And then Fareeha hears Angela’s voice, in the air all around her, saying, “Jump.”

 

Fareeha jumps and she sails into the air. She gets further and further from the ground, deeper into a lethally deep void, but she’s not afraid. And sure enough, Angela appears, sets a hand on her cheek, and arrests her ascent. 

 

“You came,” Angela says. Her voice is still in the air all around Fareeha, her touch is magic again. “You’re here.”

 

Fareeha wraps her arms around her waist. Angela laughs and God, the sound of that reverberating throughout Fareeha’s world is worth every mile she crossed to get here. The two of them are descending now, gradually. Angela’s hand glides through Fareeha’s spacesuit and settles on her lower back. She leans in, phasing through Fareeha’s helmet, and kisses her. Fareeha can taste her now, smell her now. She’s like salt and coal and quiet summer nights. She’s a glow on Fareeha’s tongue. 

 

She’s stardust, Fareeha thinks. 

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Angela whispers, as their feet touch the surface of the moon. 

 

“Of course,” Fareeha says. “This is where I’m supposed to be.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> When Fareeha's talking about shirk, she's referring to idolatry. Thank you so much to [@honeyvaswanii](https://twitter.com/honeyvaswanii) for the cultural help!
> 
> I'm [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter/tumblr if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


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